


Legend

by madam_ypsilon



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madam_ypsilon/pseuds/madam_ypsilon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once the final war is over, there will still be the stories, but how will they be different from the ones before the ring was found?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> You're in luck. I just started reading the books, which might have made the line between film and book imagery a bit murky. Thanks for the prompt though, I liked revisiting this bit of mddle-earth.

The trees, the birds, the sound of the wind, it was all there. The ever-flowing river, the water that sounded so friendly but was also cold and deep and frightening at the same time. There was always music for whoever wanted to hear it, even at night when most everyone was fast asleep. And then there was the house of Elrond. The last homely house as it was called. One would step over the threshold and wish to stay there for ever. The place was filled with legends, full of stories that came to live once they were told on a warm summer evening. Tales of dragons, of ruined cities, of powerful warriors and their battles, and later, much later, stories about hobbits.

This was how Bilbo and his group had found the elves, singing and laughing, leading the way to the house of Elrond. One would almost forget the reason for travelling this far. The music, the food, all the books and the furniture, the clothes. it would take ages to describe every detail, and one would still feel the urge to remember as much as possible, to save it all up for later, for those who stayed at home, who might only half believe what went on in that house, let alone what happened once the guests had left. But it hadn't kept Bilbo from writing it all down once he had time enough to do it.

The runes on the two ancient swords they had taken from the trolls, it was only a snippet of what Elrond had shown them. For he knew more, a lot more than the others outside could have heard. And once Bilbo left with Gandalf and the dwarves, he found ways to follow their path. There would be the treasure at the end, and the feast and all the gifts, but there wouldd be something else first, something Bilbo had picked up on a whim. It had seemed merely something that lay almost forgotten in a long dark tunnel. "What have i got in my pocket," Bilbo had asked that strange creature. What indeed? It was a good thing that back then he had only thought it was a simple ring. 

There was no reason for him to notice how the thing came to life once it came back into the light. "You pull one stone out of a high pile of stones," one of the elves once said, " and either nothing happens or the whole thing will collapse into a heap of rubble." It was a good way to sum up what this tiny event brought on. If Bilbo had not picked up that ring, if it had stayed where it was...But then someone else would have found it at last, or rather, it would have found someone suitable enough. Such was the force of its dark magic, that you think you would think you were using it at your own free will, but its power would be too strong for you to resist.

It had found Frodo once Bilbo had passed it on to him and when he was almost at Rivendell, the ring had revealed him to the one who wanted it most. It was a good thing that Elrond had found ways to pull Frodo back into their mids again. But the ring had come too close to the nine others and it had grown more powerful than ever once Frodo had brought it back into Rivendell. By then the trees and the streams sounded differently, there was a warning note in every breeze, or so it seemed, the river held the far-away sounds of raging wars to come. 

This would be the beginning and hardly anyone knew yet when or where it would end. The river was still flowing, there were still the birds, and the music in the deepest nights for those who wanted to hear it. Everything within the borders was still at Elrond's command, for as long as the power would hold. But as soon as Frodo and his group journeyed on, away from the house and into the darker paths, there was a shadow spreading over everything that seemed to make the land almost too afraid to show its beautiful flowers and grass.

There would still be time for laughter now and then, and Bilbo would wait for every bit of news from outside, would tell the stories of his younger days again and again. But the news came from Galadriel's people, and then from further away, and it made Rivendell fall silent, as if the small fortress was holding its breath and waiting for an assault.

There would be numerous songs about Gandalf, about Aragorn, and at last, the long battles that had to happen for this to end somehow.

There was hope once the ring was gone for good, once the king had returned. But not all would be right with the world, not everyone's wish would come true. Where was home, now that the journey was over? Was it in the isles of the west, or in a hall of dwarves, or was it best to go back to the shire or to find your own house somewhere else? And how could there still be such a sad song in some of the winds passing over the land? The tales of the most recent past didn't sound so heroic. Too many victims, too much hatred and lust for power. Now that Frodo had moved on from here at last, and others were gone as well, it all felt like a far too long day where one was too tired to close one's eyes and fall asleep.

But the ring was gone, the last battle was over, and Bilbo had had enough time to finish writing down his tale. The images seemed to spring to life from every page, and centuries later, anyone who still took pleasure in telling those stories by heart, made all those who listened feel as if they had all been there themselves, as if they had seen the lands of Rivendell and Lothlorien, had seen the ring disappear, had watched the ships sail off to the west. It had become part of the numerous legends and it was this wonderful because it was real.


End file.
